One Last Shadow
by Faraway Dawn
Summary: A young elf,Nadjaa Morningvale retells her tale leading up to her fall from the grace of the light, to her rise in the service of the Lich King, and her duty to the Ebon Blade.


**One Last Shadow**

By: Faraway Dawn

AN: Just scanning through fan fiction I noticed there's really not a lot of warcraft stuff, despite it's popularity. Well…I just couldn't have that!

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Upon these lands, there fell a plague. I had been but a girl, and like the countless souls of Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron, I thought I could stop it. My brother Nikale Morningvale and I committed ourselves to the Light. We were raised among the new Blood Knights, we were destined 'Masters of the Light,' far more than those humans could ever hope to be. The light was something they always knew, we had only recently found it's power, and we learned its usage quickly.

Light would guide our hands, surely, the light would banish the encroaching darkness.

So when the plague was whispered to have swept silently and unbidden into Andorhal, then rumored to be spreading everywhere rapidly our scouts were sent into the lands of Lordaeron to investigate. Their reports were quite alarming.

The people were fine! A few here and there were ill, but it was nothing to be concerned about, the various scouts assured Silvermoon's leadership. Then, only a few days later word flew in by means of an outrunner. People were dying. There were various small villages, wiped out, filled with the decaying remains of its people. With no survivors to bury the bodies, villages distances away could smell death in the winds.

One by one they fell, farmstead after farmstead, village after village. The people of Lordaeron were terrified. Those in large towns, like Stratholme and Andorhal barricaded their doors and windows in the hopes of protecting themselves when the true horrors of the plague emerged.

It had all spread through the grain. Andorhal's infected grain had already gone everywhere, Lordaeron's forested villages and towns, Hillsbrad, even the Arathi Highlands. All of Quel'Thalas was on edge, friends to the Quel'dorei were dying, and as whispers had it, they were coming back from the abyss.

I soon heard that the ones who came back from the dead, were killing those who remained in the villages. Quel'Thalas quickly sent aid when they heard that Andorhal was falling. Our scouts…never returned.

Finally, the Blood Knights were forced to act.

Light shines brightest in the veil of darkness.

I, Nadjaa Morningvale, was dispatched with a small regiment of Blood Knights to Andorhal. We set out with only rumors of the town's condition. No rumor could compare to the sight that met our eyes. It was beyond comprehension, beyond words, and beyond reason. Until that very moment, I could say with a certainty, that I had never known true fear.

Andorhal lay in ruins, torn apart by her own inhabitants who now walked the streets as shambling corpses, speaking to each other in a language we could not understand. "Gods, what madness is this?" A harsh male voice whispered behind me.

"By the Sunwell…" I heard my commander's horrified answer.

Words escaped me as we prepared to carry out our grim orders: Set fire to Andorhal, find any survivors and quarantine them, destroy any opposition to this task. Burn the remains of the fallen, enemy and ally alike.

So in we went, what we thought was a task to control the plague swiftly became a desperate race for survival. No matter how many of the undead we felled, more appeared in their place. I could feel the panic rising in my comrades as our injuries mounted and hours of fatigue took its toll.

Theradon was the first to fall, then Elissia, Lor'mathar, and Kilantras. Those of us who remained set the fires swiftly to our fallen friends while my commander drove back the scourge that threatened our small foothold in the city.

Three of us against hundreds…

It was hopeless. This, I realized, when Syliana died and my commander lay lifeless before me. I could smell their blood and my own amidst the rot and decay. My heart pounded painfully within me as my blood flowed from my various wounds, staining my armor red. This day, I told myself, may the light save the fallen of Quel'Thalas.

By…by the light. These were my final thoughts, as I saw the flash of spell and felt the slice of bone that stole the very last of my strength.

As swiftly as darkness claimed me, it seemed to dissipate and my eyes were opened. I could not recall much, my mind felt like it was wandering aimlessly in a thick fog.

"You look well." A man's muffled voice slowly pierced through the haze. A pair of glacial blue eyes greeted me. "Well enough to endure your 'rebirth' at any rate." He told me it had taken nearly half a month for me to come to.

I could only nod to him in response as I was told that Arthas had use for me.

Arthas? This name was familiar to me, though I could not recall how.

"Speak with him." The blue eyed human said to me. "There." He pointed to a dark shadow sitting in the vault-like structure I found myself in. This human, I noted by accent, was not of Lordaeron. His accent was more common to the locality of Westfall and Duskwood. I did not know why I could understand his words.

He gave me a shove in the direction of Arthas and asked my name.

"Nadjaa." I answered shortly. For some reason, that was all I could recall clearly about myself in particular.

The man barked laugh. "Hope?" His could laughter resonated in the chamber. "Oh, that's rich."

I ignored the man as I approached the one who was said to have use for me. The stone floors returned each of my footsteps against the high arches, and the vastness of the room retained the chill to the air that seemed to be radiating from Arthas. If it were possible to send a chill through my body, those steps that drew me closer to Arthas would have done it, but I found, that I was suddenly devoid of fear.

I heard the voice of Arthas in my head when I drew closer. He spoke of my glorious demise, and how my fearless embrace of death had earned me a place under him, if I could prove myself worthy of the power he could grant me.

It was a challenge and it excited me. Prove myself? I demanded the Lord Arthas set me a task, I would accomplish it! My zeal guided me, my power seemed to radiate…the Light had never granted such strength.

The Light…Ha! Could the light dare to imagine this?!

'Go,' I was told, 'and bring the champions of the light to their knees. At this very moment, a division of paladins of Quel'Thalas journey to Andorhal, seeking survivors, both of the city and of the small regiment that was sent initially. There are many, nearly one hundred to the regiment. Deliver them unto darkness, if they are worthy, death will embrace them as well.'

I eyed Arthas with skepticism when he told me the scourge at Andorhal would neither aid me in the attack nor would they attack me. 'You will not need aid, if you can not overcome the knights on your own, you are not worthy of becoming a true Death Knight.' His voice taunted me deep in the recesses of my mind.

So be it, I reasoned. Arthas wanted me to drown the light with despair and darkness. So to Andorhal I went and waited, cloaked, hooded and armed with a desire to see the Light again abandon its champions.

Abandon…it did.

When the paladins rode into Andorhal the Scourge cleared the roads and watched silently, overrunning the fields and the yards of the town. I could smell the fear among the elves as they walked into the town and began their search.

I laughed to myself when I counted their numbers. One-hundred one to the man. So many of the light, so many I could swamp in darkness. I would crush the hopes and dreams of the silly fools, and then send their bodies to Arthas for whatever purpose he'd deem them fit.

I made my way then, slow and silent, into the town hall to lay waste to the weakest links of the order.

The three I encountered recognized me.

"Nadjaa!" A blonde male smiled with relief.

How did he know it was me though? My face was hidden from sigh- my blade. The sword I carried bore an inscription in Thalassian. Glancing down at the blade I noted the words shined eerily on the metal. My brother and I bore twin blades. Mine carried the first half of the inscription, his carried the second half. Any Blood Knight would recognize our swords. "You've survived! Gods, a miracle, we must get you a bath! Your arms are caked in dirt."

A female, also relieved, stepped forward to embrace me and was rewarded with a chilled touch. "Nadjaa, by the well, you're as cold as death."

"Get away from her at once!" The third, and apparently the most clever one yelled. "She is not herself! Her aura is no-"

The other two paladins were left in horror when my blade, very accurately pierced through the weakest point in his armor and ran him through as easily as a hot blade through butter. I watched life leave his eyes and sharply kicked hid body from my blade. I saw the panic in the emerald eyes of the paladins at the sickening sound of the blade being pulled from their friend's body, and I laughed when they reluctantly took up arms against me.

Without remorse and in only a few moments, I spilled the blood of my brethren and silenced their calls for aid. Not bothering to wipe their blood from my blade, I went to hunt the others down.

This, was not a battle, it was a massacre. One ruined home after another soon found themselves full of not only dust, debris, and rot…but also the remains of newly slaughtered Blood Knights. The body count mounted as I stalked from house to house, surprising old acquaintances and enlightening them to my newfound powers. Within a few hours of terror, only a few knights remained.

Among them, a skilled paladin, renowned for his lack of reverence for the source of his power. Klaive, they called him…if my memory served me right. For some reason, I knew him by sight and his name stood out in my mind. 'He' had potential.

Another was an accomplished healer, who had drawn many back from the nether. They said she was the kind of Blood Knight that kept the order alive, and her numerous battle commendations spoke for her skill.

The last of them held a blade identical to my own. The Thalassian words carved perfectly into the blade caught my eye…the words echoed the strange sentiment carved into my blade. 'Al O fal anu diel osa o shar mush ri do dor nei,' my eyes ghosted over the bloody words on my blade. The words spoke of being unable to find someone, and should the event occur to look up to the sun. My gaze lifted against my will, and eyed the words on the man's blade. 'Al dath eburi man'ar dal'dieb osa fal nei dor dur bandu Dath su al'shar nor osa al osa adore shan're no fulo.'

The words followed the entire length of the blade, and bore the answer to the inscription on my own. Loosely, it bore the revelation that if from any point one could see the sky above, someone else who could also see it was waiting for them to return to them. It was touching…really…not that I cared any longer. I knew this man by his blade. This man was the one I once called brother.

"Brother," I breathed in amusement. "see how the light abandons you all."

The female among the three looked around frantically. "What has happened to the others?!"

"Dead." I answered as the scourge of Andorhal enclosed the ruined town circle. "They were weak, unworthy…but you three…"

"Oh, I knew this was going to happen." The irreverent paladin grumbled, eyeing the mass of scourge circling them in.

"Knew?! You knew?!" The female cried out in a panic.

"Silence, both of you!" My brother commanded them, and they both fell silent at his words.

"That's right, be silent and embrace your ends." I laughed.

Three of them, make no mistake, I'd killed five faster. These three were by far the best that had been sent from Quel'Thalas.

Our fight dragged on. My brother and I crossed blades, holy spells exhausted my body beyond measure, and if I didn't do something about that stupid girl, these three would triumph over me! She kept Klaive and Nikale strong while they fought relentlessly against me.

'So this is your limit?' The voice of Arthas mocked me. 'So you too shall fail…you too were unworthy.'

Anger and determination clouded my mind. I would not have this simple, pathetic, former prince tell ME I was unworthy!

Rage guided my hand when I killed the team's life support. I wanted the girl's blood coat both my blade and my hands. I reveled in the life I felt slipping from her. The desire to prove myself to Arthas overtook me as I turned to face my brother and engaged him.

Klaive tried as best he could to support my brother as he fought, but blow upon merciless blow fell on him. His strength was waning, and I'd grace him, I decided, with an honorable death. I threw back the heavy hood that hid my face from sight. My once light skin was now ashen, my once green eyes were now the color of moonlit ice, and this visage was the last thing my dear brother saw. His sad smile burned into my mind as he collapsed against the blade and surrendered his life.

His heavy blade struck the ground with a deafening clang in the silent streets of Andorhal. "Go." I told the only survivor of the slaughter. "Tell Quel'Thalas that the Scourge will not fall to you, or any who rise against us. Tell them of this, tell them how the light has failed them." I picked up my brother's blade and smirked at the remaining paladin.

The scourge parted an allowed him to pass, and I laughed with true delight when he summoned his steed to him and left the city. So much for the light. I mused before pulling my hood back up and making my way back to my awaiting Lord Arthas.

My return was met well, Arthas was pleased and deemed me worthy of further study. I began then to learn the ways of a death knight.

My thoughts never strayed in my training, my blade always found its mark, and my power grew substantially. As Arthas had promised, I grew stronger, and there were few who could dare call themselves my equal. It was here in my training among the Scourge that I found some peace at last. Finally, it was a world united by a single cause. Old grudges were cast aside and soon those who were honored to call themselves death knights like myself, included many of the various inhabitants of Azeroth.

Tauren, humans, orcs, gnomes, night elves, dwarves, even some of the undead themselves who proved themselves, were among those who fought beside me, Death Knights all of us.

In time, a few years to be exact, even the wandering Draenei, whom I had only heard rumors of in the passing years, came to join our numbers. I heard that Silvermoon had fallen, then Scourge had plowed through Eversong Woods, Quel'Thalas was a mere whisper of past glory…and it did not trouble me in the last. The past did not matter, there was only now! Here at Acherus we were brothers, here our stand would be made. We were a united front against the taint of life, and we would wipe away the disease of the living and purify the world.

So it would be, that in time the Scarlet Crusade took up the fight against us, and built a flourishing town in one of the last unspoiled areas of Eastern Lordaeron, lands now called 'The Eastern Plaguelands.' The Crusade called their little town 'New Avalon' and for a while, Arthas allowed the fools to enjoy peace and prosperity. In time the actions of the Crusade grew bold, and Arthas ordered his Death Knights to again prove their loyalty to him, to strike down the Scarlet Crusade and show them who would be the future of Azeroth.

It was exhilarating, to torture the weak and enlighten them to who their masters were. It was during the continued assault on New Avalon that I acquired an interesting set of companions, to supplement my growing power. I found myself capable of raising the dead to serve me as ghouls, I acquired a steed, and soon the gargoyles of Acherus themselves came to my aid in battle.

Our commanders charged us with bringing ruin upon the Scarlet Crusade, oho, we brought their world crashing down around them. We slaughtered everyone in our paths, men, women, and children alike. No solider was spared, no citizen, not even their livestock. We set fire to their homes, and spread both plague and fear among those of New Avalon who dared to stand against our Lord Arthas. Where we tread, only ruin was left in our wake.

Death's Breach poured forth only the finest Death Knights. We killed side by side and saw proof of our unity when a human commander bade us save an elf. Such actions would have been unheard of anywhere else…

'In life,' He had said, 'we may have been enemies, but in death we are brothers.' His words stirred the ranks, and we did not fail in our mission to save one of our captured commanders. Within a matter of days the Scarlet Crusade broke apart, and the remaining forces retreated to Northrend. At long last, there was only Light's Hope to stand against the Scourge in these Plaguelands.

Acherus was bustling with knights practicing, forging their weapons anew, repairing their armor, and training themselves better for what was to come. Highlord Darion Mograine was ordered by Arthas to lead the attack on Light's Hope Chapel. He was ordered to crush the last glimmer of hope in the Plaguelands. We, would need to make ourselves ready.

When the battle finally began, we found ourselves met with resistance, a decent amount of it, if truth be told about the situation. The Light would simply not vanish and admit defeat, as usual, it would have to be snuffed out. I fought to my maximum potential. I took down many paladins, and still, the longer the battle dragged on, the more I began to realize that something was wrong.

Our numbers were dwindling and my strength was being sapped by the very ground I stood on. Something, was very wrong. Something in my blood again knew fear. Something about this place…

Then I heard it! A whisper of fear, a call for aid, a twinge of doubt…I could feel Ashbringer resisting Highlord Mograine. I knew with certainty something was horribly wrong when our Highlord kneeled in defeat. It seemed to get worse as Tirion Fordring addressed Highlord Mograine, and Light's Hope worked a magic beyond my comprehension. It brought back a piece of our commander that should have been long laid to rest.

Light's Hope and something else was clearing my mind.

Then 'he' appeared. We felt relief wash over us, the fools of the Argent Dawn would be laid to waste by our mighty Lord Ar-

The words I heard spoken did not make sense, I could not believe them…

"You sent them to their deaths!" Tirion yelled.

"That's right, I did send them to die." Lord Arthas, no, the Lich King answered.

Those around me stiffened visibly at the words of Arthas.

"Their lives are meaningless, but yours…" We could hear the interest that graced our leaders voice. Arthas did not care for our lives. He admitted that his actions were meant to draw Tirion Fordring into the open, and that he succeeded. We…were sent in to die.

_Meaningless?_ Something in me suddenly felt ill. Something in me suddenly recognized this place…

_This land is holy ground._ It told me. Holy…

The events that transpired were a blur. Their were cries of outrage, Highlord Mograine attacked Arthas, the Ashbringer was in the hands of Tirion Fordring, Arthas was retreating, and my senses suddenly returned to me as light filled the air.

When all things cleared in my mind, and I regained an awareness of the time that had elapsed, Darion Mograine was pledging the death knights, the Knights of the Ebon Blade, to defeat Arthas. I suddenly remembered…

Andorhal.

My life, I had been a paladin once…

My death…it was in…

I was sent to slaughter…

What had become of my brother?! My eyes suddenly stared at my own ashen hands. I remembered killing him so many years prior now. My brother…I could swear I still felt his blood on my hands! Where was he!? Was his body…

Andorhal.

Was he now a mindless scourge minion?

Andorhal.

Was he among the Death Knights?

Andorhal.

Was he free or…

Andorhal.

It haunted me. I was free now, and after reclaiming Acherus, the Ebon Hold, for the knights, I found myself staring out over the Plaguelands I had helped nurture the destruction of. We were instructed to seek out our former leaders, to seek a place back among them, to be welcomed as their allies once again.

Even with these orders…

_Andorhal…_

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I know, it's not that long. I plan to write more if it's received well.


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